But All Shall End in Sadness
by TolkienGirl
Summary: "And Kili falls, and Fili shouts out a curse that is half a prayer because, by all the good left in the lonely world, it cannot end this way." Battle of the Five Armies. You know what follows. No slash, OF COURSE-just tragic Durin family feels. Nothing belongs to me but my feels and devotion. Rating for death and some violence/bloodiness.


**A/N: I cried writing this, OK?**

He didn't think it would end this way. The first thick-shafted arrow had pierced him in the shoulder, and he had broken it with a roar of renewed vigour that had almost dulled the searing pain.

It was then that he had seen Thorin fall, with the pale orc's head at his feet but a blade in his side. All thought of his own wounds had flown from Fili's mind, because this is his king, his uncle, and the only father he remembers knowing, and _he didn't think it would end this way._ So he charges, with a stream of princely battle cries flowing from his lips, and—the second arrow catches him squarely in the chest.

He and his brother—whose bow is broken and whose brown eyes are wild—fell many orcs and goblins as they stand above their uncle…or at least it feels like many to Fili, a brave showing before the third arrow nearly chokes him of breath. He falls, and Kili is a brave and loyal idiot as he always has been, and he springs forward to his brother's aid as the sword plunges into his side.

And Kili falls, and Fili shouts out a curse that is half a prayer because, by all the good left in the lonely world, it _cannot end this way._

"You blasted, stone-headed fool," he growls, and it sounds so much like Thorin that he would laugh if it weren't the end for all of them.

Kili grins, though it can't conceal the agony of pain behind his eyes. "Love you too, brother."

In answer to that, it is all Fili can do—and more than his wounds can bear—to pull his brother to him and hold him as though he can keep them both from letting go.

"You're hurt," Kili observes, running a finger along the rough shaft of the arrow in Fili's ribs.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Can I—can I do anything for you?" He loosens Fili's hold and leans back, a hand pressed to his side and a furrow of pain in his brow, but Fili knows he's not thinking of himself.

There _is_ something he can do. Something Fili wants at least. "The arrows."

Kili is shocked. "But—they'll tear you apart—"

"Already accomplished."

"But—"

"Do it." His teeth are clenched so tightly he feels that they might crack.

"But—"

"Have you still the strength?"

Kili nods. It's tense, and his face is pale, but he nods.

"Then take them. I'll not pass on to our fathers pinned down by the shafts of that cursed filth." He grins crookedly. "Come now, brother. It's like pulling a splinter."

Kili takes a breath and closes his hand around the first arrow, steadying his hold with his other hand against Fili's good shoulder (if good it can still be called).

He pulls and it _burns_, and the cry of anguish has escaped Fili's lips before he can stop it.

The last trace of color drains from Kili's face and he stumbles back, his pain over his brother's wounds mingling with his own. "Fee—" The childhood nickname reminds Fili how young his brother is _(this time the arrow's in his heart_).

"Be still," he urges, and lays Kili's head against his chest.

They rest for a little while in a stillness that the clash of the battle around them does not really penetrate. Fili realizes that many of the company are ringed around them and Thorin, who is not far off, and the great bear…_Beorn?_...is wreaking havoc upon the enemy. He is glad that the tide has turned their way at last (_too late_). But Kili shifts restlessly, as he used to when he had nightmares.

"What is it?"

"Mum," he chokes out, and Fili flinches at the trickle of blood seeping between his brother's lips. "I promised her…I swore I would—"

_Return._ His brother's hand brushes his, and Fili clasps it as tightly as his bruised fingers will allow. "As did I—I promised for both of us."

If he closes his eyes, and bends his head to rest his bleeding lips against Kili's forehead, he can forget the gore and clamour of the battlefield, forget broken promises and broken bodies, and see his brother a lad again, always chasing at his heels, climbing trees and scaling forbidden fences—never getting into more trouble than Fili could get him out of.

_Until now._

"Mother would understand." He hopes that saying it makes it the truth.

Kili hacks out a laugh that stops halfway in a groan. "Yes, understand that I am reckless and you looked after me."

_Not well enough_. Fili would try to staunch the deep, ugly, rending gash in his brother's side if he thought it would do any good. But it won't. All prospect of "good" has passed—all but goodbye.

"Mother would be proud of you, little brother. You fought like a prince."

"Uncle will have no heir now," Kili says softly.

Fili knows that Thorin will not see another sunrise, but he does not say it because Kili does not need to know. "Naught but our memories." The throbbing in his shoulder, in his ribs burns hotter and he stiffens his body to keep it from trembling.

"Will they tell great tales of our deeds? Will we be heroes?" The hopefulness in Kili's voice almost brings a laugh to Fili's lips—almost. He knows too well what a laugh will do to his tangled innards to let it loose.

"I've no doubt that our names will be remembered. Ori will see to that. Perhaps we'll even have a scroll."

"A scroll each."

"Don't ask for too much."

Kili opens his mouth to speak but a shudder passes through him and his breath begins to come in short, rasping bursts. "Fili—"

"I'll not leave you." With the last burst of strength he has, Fili tightens his good arm around his brother's shoulders.

"My rune stone. I want…I want to have it. It's in my pouch. Will you get it?" His voice is steady but Fili can hear the trace of fear in it. "I can't move my arm anymore."

Fili finds it as quickly as he can (his hand is numbing too) and presses it into his brother's hand, trying to stave off the realization that the talisman is slick with Kili's blood. "She knew, I think."

"That we would never see her again?"

"That we would protect our uncle, no matter the cost."

"No matter the cost," Kili murmurs. He sighs, a long breath out, and Fili feels him relax, almost as though he's ready to fall asleep—something Fili can_ almost_ believe…if it were not for the warm, steady flow of blood that seeps from the wound in his side.

"Mother loved us," he says, and grasps Kili's hand, so that their mother's stone is pressed between their palms.

"Loves," his brother corrects. "She'll never cease…not as long as she lives."

_I pray that her life surpasses ours by many years, _Fili thinks, but he does not say it aloud. Dis is still of a hale age, and surely she _can _heal and remain, and be showered in the wealth and glory that her sons will never now know.

The sky grows darker—or at least it seems so to Fili for a moment, before he realizes that it is his own sight that is clouding over. His brother's breaths are slower, more shallow.

What little time there was is gone now.

"Will I find you in the Halls of Mandos?" Kili asks, and Fili's heart clenches with something more than the pain that breathes fire through him with every waning gasp. But he answers swiftly, because _his brother_ _must not be afraid._

"I will find _you_."

And of all the sights that pass in pain and darkness before his weary eyes, the light of his brother's smile is the last to fade.


End file.
